


ACOMAF: Chapter 38 Retold

by onepageatatime715



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, ACOWAR, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Smut, Elriel, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Nessian - Freeform, Smut, The Night Court, acomaf, feysand, just a little bit of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11844240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onepageatatime715/pseuds/onepageatatime715
Summary: Inspired by Chapter 38 of A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J Maas. Retold following the events of A Court of Wings and Ruin with Azriel and Elain.All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.





	1. Chapter 1

Elain was working on the gardens at the townhouse when the sun eventually shifted, shading the garden to the point of frigidness again. Not willing to give up the sun yet, Elain brushed off her pants – loose fitting, colourful things, as was the style of the Night Court – and trudged the three levels to the rooftop patio to watch it set. 

As Elain emerged onto the patio she saw – to her surprise – that Azriel was already there, lounging in one of the white-painted iron chairs, wings tucked in tight while he idly gripped a glass of some sort of liquor – probably whiskey – a crystal decanter full of it set on the table before him. 

Elain cleared her throat. 

“I know you’re there,” Azriel said without turning from the view of the Sidra and the red-gold see beyond. 

Elain titled her head, perplexed by the tightness in his voice. “If you want to be alone, I can go.” 

Azriel jerked his chin toward the empty seat at the iron table, so Elain floated forward to perch on the edge of chair, unnerved by Azriel’s uncommonly morose mood. 

“What is it? 

Azriel drained his glass - reached for the decanter – and poured himself another before he spoke. 

“The things that I do – for this Court, for Rhys – they’re not pleasant. Or fun. Especially not after everything that happened during the War, everything that is still happening, here and on the continent,” Azriel began, staring out at the city. “It takes its toll, the things I choose to do. The person I must become when I leave Velaris.” 

He drank again, and dragged a hand through his hair before finishing off the glass, which he promptly refilled. “I don’t like stealing from people. I don’t like hurting people. I don’t like lying and cheating and deceiving my way through days at a time, if only to gain a small tidbit of information.” 

“Azriel –”

“I made a mistake this time, Elain, and its going to cost us. Cost Rhys,” Azriel ground out. Elain didn’t ask what – knew better than to push the shadowsinger. 

Instead she leaned forward and lifted the decanter to refill his glass, plucking the filled glass from his fingers and downing it herself. Then she refilled it a second time and returned it to his waiting hands, ignoring the peculiar look on his face. 

“I doubt it’s the end of the world if you do that every now and again.” 

“One time it could be.” 

“And this time it wasn’t.”

Elain said the statement with all the conviction she could muster, despite not having the faintest clue how serious Azriel’s mistake was. What it could cost their friends and family. 

They sat in silence for several moments, Azriel sipping at his drink.

“I don’t blame you,” Elain whispered at last. 

Azriel huffed. 

“Truly, Azriel,” Elain continued. “I understand why you do what you do in order to protect this city. To protect you friends, and your family. I do.”

His eyes slid to Elain, wary and dull.

“And your point is?”

A bad day – this was a bad day for him, Elain realized. She swallowed her hurt at the bite in his words. 

“We’ll get through whatever this is together,” Elain replied simply. 

“We?” A bland, but edged question. 

“I meant what I said, Azriel,” Elain baited Azriel. Anything – anything to get a rise out of the shadowsinger. To make him stop looking like that. 

Azriel didn’t deign to reply. 

“Feyre told me about a pretty shop across the Sidra the other day. One that sells lots of lacy little things,” Elain began. 

Azriel cut her off with a growl, his gaze flashing to something near predatory as he focused on her – before it went back to nothing. 

How long – how long had they been playing this game, the two of them? 

Since the moment he escorted her out to the townhouse gardens before the War had truly begun? Or earlier even, then that? 

It was impossible to tell. 

“I’m not in the mood.” 

There was no humor, no mischief in his voice, but… He had stayed. He had understood her when no one else had. 

Week after week, day after day, he had fought for her, helped her understand her visions, even when she herself did not understand what was happening to her. She couldn’t leave him to his own demons, his own guilt. Not when he has willingly shouldered hers, time and time again. 

So Elain held his gaze. “I never knew Illyrians were such morose drunks.” 

“You should see Rhys,” Azriel monotoned, “And besides – I’m not drunk, I’m drinking.”

“Semantics,” Elain leaned back in her chair. “Maybe you and I should go out and find a pretty female to entertain you. I was going to invite you to come shopping with me for said lacy unmentionables, but … I’m sure bar-hopping could be just as enjoyable.” 

Azriel didn’t respond, though Elain could practically feel the shift in his attention. To her. 

“But, if you’re content to mope, perhaps I’ll just go shopping for said lacy unmentionables myself, or with some other male. I’m sure I could find one interested in the task,” Elain shrugged. 

“Someone thinks mighty highly of herself.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night.” 

A challenge. 

“Am I supposed to deny,” Azriel drawled, his mouth ever so slightly tugged up at the corners, “that I find you attractive?” 

“You’ve never said it.” 

“I’ve told you many times, and quite frequently, how attractive I find you.”

Elain thought of all those times – when she’d hoped he meant something more, but forced herself to dismiss them as polite compliments. “Well maybe you should do a better job of it.” 

Azriel’s eyes regained that predatory gleam Elain had seen earlier – if only briefly. He leaned closer, his voice nothing more than a purr.

“Is that a challenge, Elain?” 

“Is it?” 

His pupils flared. Gone was the quiet sadness, the overwhelming guilt. Only that lethal focus – on Elain. On her mouth. On the bob of her throat as she tried to keep her breathing even. 

Elain’s toes curled against the stone of the patio, toeing such a dangerous line neither of them had yet dared to cross. 

And as Azriel leaned forward, his shadows enveloped them both, hiding them from prying eyes. 

There was flirting, and then there was … this. 

Azriel’s hands gripped the arm rests of Elain’s chair as he pulled her chair to him, until there was barely room for their knees between them. 

“What, exactly, do you want from me, Elain,” Azriel growled, his voice heavy with a barely restrained lust. 

“Whatever you’ll give me,” Elain whispered, her heart hammering in her chest. 

Azriel growled as he tugged her closer, pulling her on to his lap, his hands rough on her waist, the calluses scraping her skin. He tugged her a bit closer before leaning in to brush a kiss to her jaw, then her neck, and finally her collarbone. 

Elain whimpered at the sensation, eliciting a pleased growl from Azriel as his hands began a careful exploration of her waist, tracing patterns that sent shiver up her spin. Causing her breasts to peak against the sheer fabric of her shirt. 

Azriel pressed his lips to her peaked nipples, and Elain nearly begged him to take her shirt off, to remove that barrier between his lips and her skin.   
She wanted to feel him against her, feel him touch her – 

“Elain,” Azriel growled, his voice nearly a groan as she pressed against him. 

As her hands tangled themselves in his hair, scraping against his scalp and tugging ever so gently. 

Elain leaned down and captured his mouth in a kiss, silencing him, and he moaned into the kiss, his tongue flickering against her lips before he pulled away. 

“Elain,” Azriel tried again, his voice rough. “Rhys –”

As if summoned, Rhys’ teasing voice pierced the darkness around them. 

“Am I interrupting something?” 

Azriel growled quietly, his hands still gripping Elain’s waist as he laid his head back against the chair. 

“Go away Rhys.” 

“Five minutes,” Rhys agreed. 

Elain couldn’t tell if he had truly left or not, with the shadows obscuring her view – but Azriel captured her in a kiss so fierce she assumed he must have. Then he pulled away again, resting his forehead against hers. 

“May I find you later?” 

Elain nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Elain whispered playfully. “Don’t be late.” 

Then she flitted away, snatching up the empty glass and decanter of liquor as she did so, Azriel’s shadows caressing her as she vanished from the roof top.


	2. Chapter 48 (Retold)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested - more Elriel. Featuring Smut. And (briefly) a sassy Rhys. 
> 
> Partially inspired by Chapter 48 of A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J Maas. Retold following the events of A Court of Wings and Ruin with Azriel and Elain. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

“So, you and Elain,” Rhys drawled as he strode back on to the roof, hands tucked into the pockets of his black pants.

Azriel growled ever so slightly. “Not in the mood, Rhys.”

“That’s why I came up here, I figured you’d be up here, moping,” Rhys replied smoothly. A glance at the table. “Though I expected you’d have some liquor to keep you company. Otherwise I would have brought my own.”

Azriel glanced at the table as well, a dark chuckle escaping the shadowsinger despite himself. “It appears a certain female has filched my drink.”

Rhys merely nodded as he slid into one of the wrought iron chairs by the table.

Azriel followed suit, running his hands through his hair, wishing it was Elain’s hands instead. In his hair, on his chest –

Rhys’ nostrils flared as he undoubtedly scented exactly what Azriel’s focus had gone to. “Az, I won’t keep you long, but I do need to hear what happened from you.”

Azriel sighed and began.

 ~~~

Some time later, Azriel found himself outside Elain’s door, once again running his hands through his hair nervously.

As he reached forward to knock, he found the door yanked open before his fist could make contact.

And the devastatingly beautiful Elain Archeron before him.

She had changed – gone were the pants and loose fitted top, replaced by a midnight blue nightgown that fell to his mid-thighs.

And her hair – normally tied up – fell loose around her shoulders as she took in the sight of the shadowsinger before her.

“You look like you need another drink,” Elain observed smoothly, turning back into her room. Azriel followed, shutting the doo quietly behind him.

“I would already have one if someone hadn’t stolen mine in the first place,” Azriel pointed out as he watched Elain refill his glass – with a slightly emptier decanter than he remembered.

Elain drifted back across the room and deposited the glass in his hand, replying airily, “I had to entertain myself somehow.”

Azriel sipped at the liquid, but it was merely a distraction from the female in front of him. From the want building inside him every moment he spent in her presence.

She was nothing short of ethereal – she could have been a fae princess from a mortal fairy story as she flitted about her room, her hair dancing behind her as she did, her feet so light upon the floor they barely made a noise.

And her legs – damn the Cauldron – Azriel had rarely, if ever, seen her with so much skin exposed.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?” His voice sounded hoarse, even to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from her as she neared.

“Are you planning on standing there all night?”

Suddenly, Azriel was reminded that they were in Elain’s room, her bed looming behind her shoulder. And that she was clad in very, very little clothing.

“Elain…”

Elain reached up and put a finger on his mouth, plucking the glass from his hand and setting it aside as she drew closer to him – and closer, until there was no space between them at all.

“I want you, Azriel.”

Those four simple words broke whatever self-control Azriel had been trying to maintain over himself, and in one fluid motion, he had Elain lifted up around his waist as he made his way to the bed, where he set her down with a careful gentleness.

He leaned down to kiss her, and she pulled him closer, dragging him onto the bed with her. Azriel wrapped himself around her, his hands carefully – slowly – exploring her body as he kissed her neck.

“What do you want, Elain?”

“You.” Her voice was as rough as his, and breathy too, causing Azriel to grin into her shoulder as he began his exploration in earnest.

One of his broad, scarred ahnds slid under and over Elain: one flattening against her stomach and tugging her against the hard warmth of him, the other sliding under her ribs and arms to band around her chest. Azriel tangled his legs with hers, and settled his wings over top of them.

Elain, ever curious, lifted a hand towards the membrane of his wing, tracing a finger along it. Azriel shuddered, his arms tightening around her as his explorations stopped.

“You delightful, wicked thing,” Azriel purred in Elain’s ear, his nose grazing the exposed bit of neck Elain had arched beneath him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you how sensitive and Illyrians wings are?”

Elain’s voice was breathless as she slid another finger down the inside of his wing. “Feyre might have mentioned it.”

Azriel felt himself harden at the touch, felt the tightness against his trousers as he puched against her behind, heat flooding him.

Cauldron he wanted her.

Elain stroked his wing again, two fingers now, and Azriel twitched against her backside as she did.

His fingers began to make idle, lazy strokes on her stomach, around her navel. Elain pressed closer to him, grinding up against him, her body demanding _more_.

“What is it that you want, Elain?” Azriel murmured, his lips hovering above her neck, his voice barely more than a whisper as his one hand drifted dangerously lower, brushing the hem of her panties, while his other hand travelled down the slope of her breasts.

Azriel’s tetth scraped against her neck in a lazy caress. “What is it that you want, Elain?”

Elain cried out a little, arching fully against him.

“I want you, Azriel,” Elain repeated breathlessly. “Everything you’ll give me. Please.”

Azriel growled with pure male satisfaction as his hand slipped under and up her nightdress. Skin to skin, the calluses of his hands drawing sweet groans from Elain as the scraped the top of her breast and circled around her peaked nipple. “I love these,” he breathed, his hand sliding to the other breast.

Elain groaned as he caressed a knuckle against her nipple, bowing into the touch, silently begging him for more. She writhed against him, drawing out a groan of his own as he felt her ass press against the hardness of him.

She began twisting, reaching for him, needing to just feel him, but Azriel merely pulled her closer, leaving no room for negotiation.

“I want to touch you first,” he said, his voice rough and guttural, palming Elain’s breast for emphasis. Elain yielded at that, allowing Azriel to continue his exploration of her body.

New – Azriel knew this was all new to her – and he wanted to ensure she enjoyed herself.

He slid his finger along the band of her panties again.

Again.

Again.

“Please,” Elain breathed.

Azriel smiled against her neck as his hand at last trailed beneath her panties, the first brush of his fingers against her dragging a moan from deep in Elain’s throat as Azriel snarled in satisfaction at the wetness he found waiting for him.

His thumb circled that spot at the apex of her thighs – teasing – but never quite –

Azriel’s other hand gently squeezed Elain’s breast at the same moment his thumb pushed down exactly where Elain wanted. She bucked her hips, her head falling back against his shoulder as a moan escaped her, her one hand reaching up to tangle itself in Azriel’s hair.

His fingers slid down, slow and brazen, straight through the core of her, his lips pressed into her neck as he kissed upwards, towards her ear. Which he nipped at gently as he slid a finger inside her, swearing at the heat he found waiting.

The moan Elain let out was loud enough to wake the entire townhouse.

Azriel pumped his finger in and out slowly, then, slid a second finger in, growling in satisfaction at the small sounds Elain made at the sensation, grounding her ass against him as she silently begged for more.

Elain twisted unexpectedly, capturing his mouth with her own, biting his lower lip.

Azriel groaned at the sensation, plunging his fingers in deeper, harder. Imagining what he would do with her naked beneath him.

Azriel kissed her back fiercely, his tongue slipping into her mouth, teasing her, taunting her with the feel of him in and against her as he plunged his fingers in and out of her.

Elain moaned again, and Azriel growled, lowering his kisses – to her jaw, then her neck, then her collarbone.

And as he lowered his mouth to nip at her peaked nippled – visible even through the thin fabric of her night gown, Elain cried out, shuddering around him as she found her release.

Azriel kissed her again, devouring the sound as his fingers stroked her through the final throes of her climax, until she was limp and trembling in his arms.

“Azriel,” Elain murmured, her voice rough.

The shodwsinger merely pulled her closer, turning her as he did so, so that they were face to face.

“I didn’t know – I thought –”

Azriel chuckled quietly as he began to slowly draw designed on her arms.

“That’s only the beginning, sunshine,”


End file.
